Reflections of a Reluctant Poet

By Flash

Contemporary poetry you can relate to on a variety of subjects. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gordon Horton
• Release date: Sep 14, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215037584

Flash

Flash is an old school trucker with a variety of skills. An author, poet, and craftsman, He isn't afraid to re-invent himself as the situation demands. Poetry is his most recently aquired art form.  

Book preview

Flash

Forward

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I never had any intention of becoming a poet. I don’t even like poetry. I remember skipping English class in high school on the days we were to study the subject. Funny how things work out.

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Flash

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I have included some pieces from previous books in this volume. Some may not have seen them, but I feel they bear repetition. 

One

The first poem I ever wrote was a eulogy.  It was written while driving north with a load of oysters off the Gulf of Mexico, Virginia bound. You see, my brother was the poet in the family. Even took Poet as his street name. An old school biker, he wrote the kind of thing you would expect from an outlaw. He also wrote things you would never have expected. When his daughter died, he lost his voice. Turns out I spoke for him. I didn’t write another for over twenty years.

Me, my friends call me Flash. I suppose you can as well. I’ve had a lot of names over the years. I’m an American trucker, essential to the life and health of this country. Along with my brothers and sisters, we keep an entire nation moving. Without us, life as we know it in this country would not be possible.

The next poem I wrote was written in my sleep, in a rest area out in the middle of nowhere. I woke up and found I had to get it down on paper. Then Covid hit. Oh, not right away. It was a year or so later, but it opened the gates to an area I did not know lay within me. My brother had been gone for years. I guess his passing left a vacuum in the space time continuum. I never sought to fill it. As I have said many times I don’t even like poetry, but now, I guess I am one. At least, that's what people tell me.

I have found myself, out on the long and lonesome roads, inspired. I have discovered I have a voice. I believe that if my work has merit, it must be shared. When you have something to say, it has to be said. Even if no one is listening.

I read somewhere that you should not expend too much effort to explain your work. Some people won’t get it, some will. Some will find their own meaning in your words. Just do the poem. So that's what I will try to do here.

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Two

In keeping with that intent, I will try to keep my introductions brief.

Just do the poem.

Dead Poets

The silence of a star filled night.

A world of in-betweens.

A reluctant poet ponders,

And dreams poetic dreams.

Thoughts of friends he's never seen,

And new ones long since dead.

The words of long Dead Poets

Leaping newborn from his head.

Of friendship held in distant hearts.

Of love forever present

The times they've had,

Both good and bad,

And some forever pleasant.

I would not change a single thing.

Though times there've been I've cried.

When darkness tried to swallow me,

And hold me deep inside.

It's only from the darkness

You can truly see the sun.

When joyfully you realize,

That two, in truth,

Are one.

Inspired by my introduction to the poetry of Mary Oliver, as well as my brother, Poet. Both of them, dead poets. The friends I’ve never seen include the Scottish/Irish poet, Elizabeth Kearney.

I’ve written a number of poems to honor people I know, as well as family. I wrote this one for Elizabeth.

Elizabeth

An Angel's Breath from across the pond

Numb with pain and sorrow

Her lover's death has laid her low

And darkened her tomorrow

Life's filled with lessons we should learn

We can choose to make things better

My heart goes out to Angel's